12 Hours In
by mcplestreet
Summary: 12 hours into the Battle at Hogwarts and Brooke Cunningham, one of the healers attempting to keep the wounded alive, is about to crack. She isn't sure she can handle everything being thrown at her. But an unexpected connection gives her the last bit of hope she needs to continue.


Hey everyone! Wow I've been on a roll with all these one shots lately. This fic is for the **Choose Your Wand Challenge** by **Coruscanti Clover** and the **Ultimate** **Potronus Quest Challenge** by **Book of Hope**. They're both fantastic ideas and if you're into challenges I suggest you check them out! Enjoy this fic!

Also I'm pretty sure there's more than a few typos in here, they will be corrected soon!

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Brooke Cunningham was surrounded by death. She could smell it in the air and feel it on her skin. Voldemort and his death eaters had invaded the castle nearly twelve hours earlier and since then an all out war had broken out. Not that anyone was surprised. Brooke herself had suspected a war about a month before the ministry finally admitted that the most notorious dark wizard had once again come to power. Ever since then the only question was when.

The only reason Brooke had stayed at Hogwarts for her seventh year was because she had a gut feeling the war might take place on school grounds. And while she wasn't a fan of directly fighting a death eater she was on the fast track to becoming a professional healer. Most of the manpower would be used to battle Voldemort's troops but someone had to stay back and care for the wounded. She intended to be that person.

But now, eleven and a half hours into the war, she was realizing how in over her head she was. St Mungo's had sent over some of their healers, but not nearly enough. The Great Hall had been turned into a temporary hospital and was now filled with wounded and dead wizards. Brooke stood, leaning against the wall, having the first still moment since Harry Potter had stepped onto school property. She looked down at herself, only just realizing what she looked like.

Her clothes, which had once been a good pair of jeans and a nice blue top, were ruined beyond recognition. Her jeans were ripped in more than one place and the hems were starting to fray from all the times she'd tripped over a stray item that lay on the floor, abandoned. The blue top that had been given to her by her mother was drenched with sweat and clung to her torso. Her hands and clothes were coated in the blood of more than one victim. Dark circled had started to form under her eyes and her bones ached, begging her to lay down for awhile. But she knew she couldn't. All around her people were crying for their loved ones or yelling in pain. They needed her.

She walked up and down the aisles of the wounded. Brooke checked every person she passed for bandages or any other sign that they had already been tended to. Nearly every face she saw was familiar. She passed by old friends, old enemies, classmates she saw daily, even a few boys she had dated through her years in school. They all looked at her with pleading eyes, silently begging her to take their pain away. But there was a strict policy she had to follow; leave those who had already been tended to. Newcomers were top priority.

Brooke wiped both tired and tears from her eyes. She _had_ to keep going. There was no other choice in her mind. Across the room, where the staff table usually stood, was where the bodies of those who hadn't made it had been moved to. She counted at least twenty five families crying over the bodies of their loved ones who hadn't been as fortunate as they were. As far away as she was she spotted the still form of Lavender Brown, pale and bloody. For a moment she thought she might shatter. This girl, her best friend since fourth year, was gone. They'd never share another secret, never make another joke. All of their plans for life after school were shattered. But Brooke had to keep moving.

She forced herself to turn away and face the double doors which were open, giving her a small view of chaos that lay beyond the boundaries she had confined herself to. Some of healers sent in from St Mungo's had put protective charm on the doorway, only allowing those with good intentions inside. Everyone knew the spell wouldn't last forever, but it had helped immensely so far. But standing in the doorway was one of the last people she expected to see; a certain blonde haired Slytherin boy she'd hated for years.

The shock of his presence momentarily froze her in place. She wasn't sure how long she had been looking at the young man, but it must have been long enough that he felt her gaze. The two locked eyes and Brooke could have sworn she saw the same pain she felt reflected in his face like a mirror. He too knew almost everybody that lay wounded on the floor. No doubt he felt responsible too, as a not so new death eater. Maybe she imagined it but some sort of understanding seemed to pass between them.

They had never gotten along. In fact foul names had crossed both of their tongues when they came in contact. For seven years Brooke was sure there could never be a similarity between them. But now she realized they were both in the same boat. They were just two terrified teenagers, wrapped up in a war they never wanted a part of. People they held close to them were dying left in right. And they couldn't take it much longer.

Brooke spotted two men, one carrying a young child, both making a b line for the Great Hall. Just as they stepped in she could spot a nasty head wound on the small girl's head. The teens broke eye contact as Draco turned to see who had appeared next to him. Brooke pulled out her wand and some bandages from her pocket and ran towards the newest addition to the hospital wing. In an instant a moment she never expected to have had ended. Her and Draco Malfoy once again went their separate ways, returning to their duties they had to fulfill.

It would be years before the two ever saw each other again. Nineteen years in fact. Brooke was helping her son gather his things for his fourth year at Hogwarts when she looked up and saw, standing almost ten feet away, a face she hadn't thought about in years. Just as they had so long ago the two locked eyes and a second understanding had settled between them.

They had survived.


End file.
